Contaminated
by Sister Sunny
Summary: In a moment of tired frustration, X kisses Zero. Therein lies his fatal mistake.
1. Curiosity Killed The Cat

The warehouse around Zero was unsettling.

It was gloomy; the sparse and shattered windows provided little in form of natural light, and the large fluorescent lamps that hung from the high ceiling had all blown out eons ago. A breeze flowed languidly through the empty structure and a layer of dust coated every surface, thick from disuse. Empty shelves lined the walls, stretching the length of the building and spilling out into the equally empty floorspace. The rows of the tall metallic structures formed corridors and mazes — a library of storage space.

And despite how frustratingly _empty_ it all was, Zero's threat assessment refused to back down.

To him, it had no right to. He had seen maverick hideouts before — _his fair share_, he thought with a quiet chuckle — and they all shared the same characteristics. Dusty, out of the way, nondescript.

And empty.

Shaking himself from an analysing trance, he stepped forward to explore the labyrinth.

His agitation increased; _come out, come out, wherever you are _sounded awfully creepy, but damn it Zero hated this part of recon. He would play cat-and-mouse with the infected reploids for rust knows how long, and only after the mavericks decided that _yes, we've annoyed him sufficiently_ would they finally fight. It grated on his very essence.

Suddenly, his threat assessment spiked.

Immediately dropping into a combat crouch, Zero focussed on the integral system.

He could _feel_ it piercing his head, screaming at him to _fight or fucking flight, you idiot, _and _it's right there, can't you see it?!_

He spun, frantically searching for the source of his troubles with a manic gaze.

What?

Threat assessment quietened down, shutting up completely as he neared the _threat level: maximum_.

A laptop.

He would've missed it — _missed it, and since when was that a thing he did? _— if his threat assessment hadn't thrown such a large hissy-fit over the inconspicuous item. It was closed, but a harsh, muted light spilt from its seams. Lifting the lid, he was faced with a blank white screen. Zero tapped the enter key in confusion. Nothing changed.

_Patience is a virtue_, X would say.

Unfortunately, Zero was impatient to his very core. X often joked about the unhelpful characteristic being hard-wired into his processor, but _ok well yeah, _it kinda was_._ Whoever created him hadn't been the kind and caring type.

_Then the virtue is your ability for compassion,_ X would say.

He smiled softly, recentering himself as he plugged into one of the laptop's ports.

Preliminary scans OK

Compatibility check OK

Plugging in…

OK

Zero staggered back, disconnecting hastily as he tugged the chord out from the port. He clutched his head in both hands, barely biting back a scream as his processor split in three. His legs gave out as the pain surrounded him, invaded him, ripped apart his very being as the feeling replaced his atoms. His knees slammed into the ground, the world was black, when had it went black-

…?

He cautiously pulled his hands away. Opening his eyes, he glanced around.

The pain had subsided.

A faint tingle buzzed at the back of his consciousness, but otherwise-

The pain was gone.

Bewildered, Zero scanned through the long list of warnings.

_Subpar condition_, the first one said. He furrowed his brow and discarded it — he couldn't quite recall the last time he had been functioning at full capacity.

_Joint #261A7 malfunctioning_, well, he was lucky X hadn't noticed _that one_ yet.

_Battery low – 2%_

Ah.

Yeah, that'd explain it.

Zero looked around — the warehouse was still distinctly unexplored, but with the battery left he only had…

He double-checked the statistic.

…forty minutes until his body entered safe mode. Apparently, his built-in computer had tried to do just that a bit _early_.

He really should stay and check out the rest of the place. It was only a half-hour trip back; he could afford to investigate a little further. And what if there really were mavericks here? What if leaving gave them the opportune time to flee to a _safer, undiscovered_ safehouse?

_Well_, he thought. _Those are all valid points, but…_

_X would be worried if I didn't come back. If I never made it back because I had miscalculated-_

Zero grew exasperated with himself.

_I don't miscalculate-_

_But what if! Think of X. Think of how he'd _**_feel_**_._

And really, Rational Zero had never stood a chance. Because X-

X, with his cleverly diplomatic way he gave constructive criticism to newbies — _who really shouldn't be coddled _— that fell away to a more sincere and joking atmosphere with him; he never insulted Zero, he always had more praise to give. Or the way he'd smile at him, bright and shiny, to how he usually talked all calm and composed but with Zero he was bubbly and excited, or how his eyes shone so deep and shiny, reflective like a viridian mirror; _beautiful-_

_Wait- do most reploids call their best friend's eyes beautiful or-_

To his soft, velvety synthetic skin — perfect in shape, size and texture to nuzzle against-

_Wait, wait, wait, _**_what_**_-_

_To how his plush, luscious lips beg to be devoured when he bites them subconsciously-_

_**Thunk!**_

Zero pulled away from the wall. Spiderweb cracks spread outwards from the impact point on the concrete surface; he rubbed his helmet's gem soothingly. Maybe headbutting a hard surface wasn't his brightest idea, but it was either that or continue… _that_ train of thought.

…Because X, wonderful- pretty cool I guess X, would be worried, and sad, and it'd be all his fault.

Mind made, he exited the warehouse.

:Commander.:

:Just call me Signas, Zero.:

:Commander Signas.:

:…Yes?:

:I'm on my way back from recon, but the mission isn't over yet. Permission to continue after I refuel?:

:What- you're calling me to tell me you want to continue a mission? Fine by me. Just don't die.:

Zero reached up and tapped his audial, ending the call. In one hand, he held a sub-tank, sipping slowly from the container as he walked down a sparsely populated hallway. He smiled to himself. A few months ago, he would've probably drunk it whole and discarded it. Appreciating a near flavourless liquid was yet another habit he had gained from X.

Abruptly, something slammed into him. _Someone_. A female reploid a head or so shorter than him crouched on the floor, gathering dropped files and paperwork.

"Oh my god, Zero! Sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry."

He continued past the apologising operator, nonchalant. It hadn't bothered him, he didn't know why she was being so profuse about it. He wouldn't have even bothered returning the courtesy if X hadn't taught him otherwise. Oh well.

Finishing off the tank, he discarded it in the first bin he passed.

An hour later; to the second, the female operator spoke excitedly of her run-in with a certain S-rank hunter to a group of friends.

An hour later; to the second, the operator stopped mid-sentence, blinked, then crumpled.


	2. The Unseen Order

Zero often joked about his gait — _a strut, really. Are you trying to find a mate, X? _— but he didn't mind. He'd laugh with the red reploid. After all, his strut- _gait_.

X felt his cheeks redden slightly.

After all, his gait was fairly speedy.

X strode down the hallways of the headquarters with a frantic intent. The operators' wing was on the opposite side of the building from his room; about a fifteen minutes' walk on normal occasions, not including elevator rides.

Today, X was trying to turn that into five.

A ringtone of energetic classical music blared into his audials, alerting him of an incoming call. Reluctantly, X picked up.

:Come to the cafeteria.:

:What?:

:Come to the cafeteria.:

And by the time the call ended, X was running.

He arrived at the door in record time, bursting through it with a dash.

A group of reploids crowded around a point in the room, hushed whispers of this week's undoubtedly strangest occurrence. They parted as he neared, forming a perfect pathway to the centre of attention.

An operator, motionless, on the floor.

A lifesaver, grim-faced, looking up at him from his crouch beside her.

He sighed, "She's dead."

The chill of the evening air bit into him. Natural light filtered tepidly through the windows still, colouring the interior in the hazy orange of a polluted sunset. The warehouse before him was unchanged — no furniture moved, no dust disturbed — the single-roomed structure stood suspiciously silent.

And empty.

He took a step forward, unholstering his Z-saber. There were going to be no locations left unchecked this time. He was ready.

Creeping lightly on his feet, Zero systematically checked every crevice the cracked walls offered, every box hidden inconspicuously along corners, every door that led to empty rooms and storage cabinets. He flicked a strand of blonde hair from his face.

They attacked.

Blue, red, yellow, green, purple; the mavericks each took their turns in engaging him.

He fought back.

X whined softly at the ceiling of his room, adjusting his sprawl uncomfortably.

Zero had come back for refuelling at headquarters. So-

X shook the thought away.

…

_So why hadn't he come seen him?_

Damnit, there it was again!

He whined again, shifting onto his side to stare at the wall.

_Whatever, it's too late now. _Why hadn't he stopped by? He could've done that. He usually did. Said hi, High fived. Left again. Maybe — sometimes, X wished — maybe not the leaving part.

_Please let him be safe_, he thought. Zero was infamous with the entire base for coming back from missions damaged and not always in a single piece — it was his _thing_. X worried constantly; day in, day out. He'd worry over Zero like a scared wife- _wait what no not like a scared wife-_

Something in X warmed at the idea.

He wrapped his arms around himself, curling up into the foetal position with a frustrated moan. In his imagination, the arms around him flickered briefly, switching from blue to red then back to blue again. X's grip on himself tightened imperceptibly.

The mavericks were numerous.

If it was gloomy before, it was the _void_ now, plain and simple. The room had been plunged into a suffocating midnight black — appropriate for the time of day — and he could only see his opponents with the glorious help of night vision.

Zero wiped coolant from his lips, grimace etched deeply into his features. His fists clenched tightly around his Z-saber as his eyes scanned the crowd of five circling around him like predators on prey. Subconsciously, he moved his posture to make the exposed wiring pockmarked around his body a harder target to reach.

A burning in the back of his mind alerted him to the lunge the blue reploid had taken towards him, but he responded only milliseconds too late.

As he was tackled to the floor, he could only watch in horror as his Z-saber fell from his clutch to a place just out of reach.

Oh well.

His fists would have to do.

But before he could send his first punch-

_Threat assessment labelled them safe._

Zero stared at the blue reploid in bewilderment. The blue reploid stared back, equally confused.

Suddenly, they screamed, clutching their helmet as their eyes flickered from red to blue — _mavericks don't have blue eyes —_ and their weapons disengaged.

"_Help-_"

The blue reploid collapsed onto him.

Shoving them off, Zero hesitantly stood up.

The red maverick dropped to his knees. Then, he fell limp.

The yellow sword wielder noticed a pattern. Charging towards him, he screamed.

"Stop it! Stop whatever it is you're doing-" He couldn't finish his sentence in time; threat assessment labelled them safe.

The green reploid didn't know what hit him, but it was large, and it was abrupt, and he screeched static as he crumbled to the ground.

The purple maverick panicked. "Monster! You're a monster — couldn't you see?! They weren't mavericks after the first second, but you just kept going!" His eyes were blue, and fading fast.

"I-" Zero started, but it was too late.

The warehouse echoed with the sound of a collapsing corpse.

He looked down at his hands. Stained neon blue from spilt coolant — his or theirs, Zero supposed it didn't matter anymore — it could almost be pretty.

But X would take one glance at them, and then he'd hug him because they didn't matter. Because apparently, according to X, he was worth it.

His chest clenched painfully.

Looking down in confusion, he noticed the concerning hole in his abdomen.

_That's not good,_ he thought, because _oh fuck that really isn't good, _and also _shit I'm pretty sure that's actually quite bad._

He twisted the handle of the ride chaser, accelerating his return. He glanced at the floating display on the windshield, and _oh goody another twenty minutes to go._

_There was a pattern to their deaths_, his threat assessment noted. Zero snorted contemptuously and ignored the niggling sensation. Unfortunately, despite what X said, he was a warbot. _Ignoring threat assessment is quite hard when your purpose revolves around it._

He shook his head. _But I can still try. There are far better things to focus on, like X._ Oh yes, X. What a simply delightful being, X. What with his exotic nature, or demure smile-

_There was an order to their deaths,_ threat assessment interrupted, exasperated.

The moon shined high in the starless sky, illuminating the earth below in a clinical haze of grey.

Meanwhile, the city continued.

A team of lifesavers rushed to Zero as he dismounted the ride chaser, surrounding him.

"Hello, Zero, my name's Nutrix. I'm the one you should ask any questions to. Get on the gurney." The reploid introduced himself, precise and brief.

Zero took the proffered arm as he stumbled onto the mobile bed, barely lying down fully before the team began rolling him inside.

"Don't worry, X wants you recovered ASAP; you're in good hands." 

X…?

"Do you feel any pain?"

X would hear whatever he said to the lifesaver…

"No." He lied.

"Bullshit. How much pain are you in?"

Zero startled, glancing at the no-nonsense lifesaver.

"Uh. A lot. Around my… abdomen, sort of."

"Very descriptive, good job. Do you want a cookie?"

"No?"

"Good. I don't have any. I also wouldn't like to explain to X how exactly it is you ended up with human food in your system." A hint of a smile creeped onto Nutrix's face.

Zero grunted noncommittally. Monster…?

Nutrix turned to his team, "Condition: very poor. Time of arrival is 22:13:54. Recovery will be stable, but we should put him under for an accelerated process. X wants him functioning by tomorrow, if possible. Shouldn't be too hard." He paused, for a second. "He also told us not to _botch it_. What does he think of us, honestly?"

_X…_

_Don't worry, X._

Zero fell unconscious to thoughts of his best friend.

The maverick hunter headquarters never truly shut down; not really. There was always at least one department running at full capacity at all times — Mavericks never rest, so they won't either. That didn't, however, mean that there weren't sleep schedules. They were just…

Abysmal.

23:14:02.

There were no clocks in the building, every reploid had that built-in from the day they stepped out of the factory. Nutrix was no exception as he jolted awake.

His eyes flew open, wide and terrified. He opened his mouth to scream-

And the life left his eyes.


	3. Contact

Zero awoke to the sound of gossip.

"What's going on? I mean, first the operator, now Nutrix?"

His eyes blinked open, scanning his surroundings. He was in one of the rooms in the recovery ward; a common sight, for him. White ceilings, white walls, white floors. Disinfected three times over and clinically bright. Near a desk stood two conversing lifesavers, talking animatedly through hand gestures. He tracked the movements subconsciously.

"I know, right?" An exaggerated shrug. "We still can't figure out what killed her — it's been eight hours, we should know by now!" Arms folded.

The other piped up. "Whatever it was, it offed Nutrix, too, I think."

_What?_

He recognised that name. It was- it was the uh-

_Lifesaver who saved your life_, his combat assessment helpfully provided.

Yes, lifesaver. He was dead?

_Ironic._

He glanced to his left.

Sure enough, Nutrix lay motionless on the bed beside him. His face was caught in an expression of excruciating agony, mouth stretched tall in a soundless scream and eyes unblinking as he stared at the fluorescent lights.

_Threat level: safe._

The irises were a vacant white, the pupils had vanished.

Zero grimaced as he looked away. Searching for a distraction, he noticed the female reploid that lay to his right.

Her face was in his databanks. Status: ally, name: unknown.

_Threat level: safe._

She was a less disturbing view. Her eyes were open not in terror, but passive confusion. Her mouth lay agape not because of an unfinished cry, but an unformed question. She seemed almost surprised to be dead. As if the moment had caught her _woefully_ unprepared.

It likely had.

Double doors swung open outside his vison, shutting gently as the lifesavers exited the room.

Threat level safe?

He frowned.

His built-in computer chirped at him,

_But before he could send his first punch-_

_Threat assessment labelled them safe._

His eyes widened comically, as if in facsimile of the offlined reploids beside him.

Blue, Red, Yellow, Green, Purple.

The operator.

Nutrix.

_There was a pattern to their deaths —_ _contact with you._


	4. Negative Zeroth

Sliding to a stop, Zero regained his bearings as he walked to the edge of the rooftop. Peering over the hip-height wall at the city below, he glanced around for nearby buildings. One caught his attention. Dilapidated, abandoned, and with roof access, it seemed the perfect candidate. He took four long steps backwards, lowering his stance and enabling combat mode. Zero sprinted forward, jumping onto the ledge and from there leaping into the open air. The world fell away as his actions morphed into responses to stimuli, and threat assessment solved equations in the background as he prepared to land. When his boots finally impacted, he launched himself forward; turning vertical momentum horizontal as he rolled onto his shoulder, then back, then sprung up into a standing position.

In front of him, a door led into the building's interior. A firm jab did away with the flimsy padlock, and the door creaked open.

He looked behind him.

In the distance, looming above the city's skyline, stood the maverick hunters' headquarters. It was the largest landmark the city had to offer — it would've been a tourist destination if it hadn't also been home to the densest population of highly-trained murderers in the continent. It shone like a beacon; a glimmer of hope to the hopeless and a promise for vengeance to those afflicted with maverickism.

When had that changed?

Zero knew the answer. That changed the moment he left the building not as an employee, but a refugee.

The darkness of the stairwell beckoned him inside. He followed the call, stepping into, and subsequently past, the point of no return.

A long, draw out sigh escaped Signas as he reread the report. Unfortunately, it only confirmed his theory. Zero, fleeing headquarters?

Not inconspicuous, _very_ incriminating.

His head met the desk with a low "thunk". He let it rest there for a minute, re-evaluating his life choices. Eventually, he raised two fingers to his right audial, initiating a call.

:Yes, sir?:

:Good afternoon, Alia. I have a favour to ask of you.:

:Of course! What is it?:

:I want you to be the sole operator of a unit I am developing. Can you keep a secret?:

:I… yes, yes I can.:

:Excellent. Zero's gone rogue.:

:_ZERO'S WHAT?!_:

He flinched slightly, lowering the volume as he internally groaned.

:He's rogue. We lost contact with him last night and he escaped around the same time.:

:_Escaped?_:

:Well, he doesn't seem too willing to continue in this line of profession. It would seem he came to the same conclusion I just did.:

:…Which is?:

A deep, steadying breath calmed him minutely.

:The unexplained deaths all have one thing, _person_, in common. Zero touches them in any sort of way, and one hour later they die. It seems as closely linked to him as he is to X.:

:What about X? Has he said anything about this?:

:I asked if you could keep a secret.:

:And I _will_.:

:…No, he hasn't. I haven't told him. It seems counterproductive.:

:But-:

:It's for his _own good_, Alia. How would he react if he were to learn his best friend had not only gone rogue, but also been the cause of the deaths of two innocent reploids and will potentially lead to numerous more? Would he be happy? I wouldn't. Please, Alia. I need you for this — your expertise is what we need to keep Zero safe. _From himself_.:

:…:

:Killing Zero will be a last resort. We'll try our hardest to capture him and engineer this new virus out of him, first. You have my word.:

:…Alright. I accept.:

:Thank you, Alia. I appreciate it, honestly.:

His hand fell away from his audial as the call ended. Somehow, he couldn't help but feel as if his morality had taken a hit. But it couldn't be helped. Being commander meant being strong in the face of infinite adversity; he had no choice. And so:

The negative zeroth unit.


End file.
